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<title>Puppets (day 27-Execution) by Only_Slightly_Obsessed (A_Stressed_Cupcake)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253303">Puppets (day 27-Execution)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/Only_Slightly_Obsessed'>Only_Slightly_Obsessed (A_Stressed_Cupcake)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rémy's 2020 Multifandom Whumptober Works [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Execution, Gen, Introspection, Understandably, the poor boy, this is literally just him being rightfully mad that this is happening to him</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:36:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/Only_Slightly_Obsessed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a sunny day. Just like all the others, just like any normal day, and that’s almost insulting. </p><p>_____<br/>Whumptober day 27: Execution</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rémy's 2020 Multifandom Whumptober Works [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Puppets (day 27-Execution)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>cw death by axe</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s a sunny day. Just like all the others, just like any normal day, and that’s almost insulting. Such cosmic injustice should be punished by the gods, shouldn’t it? With thunder and lightning and rage. That’s what all the stories told him. But there’s no thunder, lightning, fire or flood to come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only the sun and the noise and the burning sand under his feet and the chains on his wrists and the hands squeezing his arms until they bruise. Except they won’t bruise, because corpses don’t bruise. He’s not sure why that is, but it just doesn’t work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to look at the guards, one on either side. Friends of his, until yesterday. They are hurting him and they know it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleading his innocence only served to make everyone hate his guts more. Once the emperor turned away from him, there was no friendship solid enough to save him from the complete loneliness of kneeling in the sand alone in front of thousands of people who were cheering him on not two days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The children, too, screaming words they hardly understand, they raise their little fists to the sky and cry out words put into their heads by their parents. Puppets, all of them. All of them. Puppets to the worst of all traitors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puppets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders how they would act if someone cut their strings. Drop to the ground, scatter, wander aimlessly about until they crumble? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger fades when his eyes meet a crying child’s. Only for a second. It’s enough. The sadness in there is entirely genuine, the anger, the betrayal he sees in the child’s eyes is all true, and it’s all for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s shameful that he ever dared to blame them for feeling betrayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in his life, he bows his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as the axe comes down, he thinks he’d never betray those children, and they never betrayed </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But his last look is at his old friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s a look of pure hate.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I get sad about him occasionally  :(<br/>This was one such day.</p><p>I apologise for the misleading title, I can only write so many IV centric stories in one day.</p><p>-Rémy</p></blockquote></div></div>
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